The Perfect Mistress (22 page)

He was not a man to lose control of conversations or anything else. The kiss was merely a momentary loss of the reins he always tightly held. Regardless, it was still most disturbing and completely perplexing. This wasn’t the first time he had been alone with a lovely woman on a secluded terrace but he’d never had the impulse—no, the need—to embrace her and ravish her lips as he wished to ravish her body and claim her soul. He started at the thought. Where in the hell had that come from? He didn’t think of Julia in that way. Or at least he hadn’t.

He pushed the disquieting thought from his mind. He’d have to apologize. Assure her it would not happen again. He’d send roses in the morning. That would ease things. Women loved flowers. She’d forgive him because, after all, they were friends. And the kiss meant nothing of significance to either of them.

He’d also put an end to his dealings with Ellsworth. He never should have initiated it in the first place. He’d pay the man what he had promised then send him on his way. Far away from Julia. Yes, that was the thing to do. With Ellsworth gone, Harrison would renew his efforts to procure the memoirs. First, flowers, then an apology, then he would increase his offer. It was brilliant.

He reluctantly pulled his gaze from Julia and turned his attention to their speaker. He narrowed his eyes and studied the man. He couldn’t quite get the thought out of his head that it could have been Ellsworth out on the terrace with Julia in his arms. In that dress.

And that he would not allow. Tonight or ever.

“Are you feeling better?” Harrison asked as soon as the carriage rolled away from Tennwright House.

“I am excellent now that we are away from there.” Veronica heaved a sigh. “But I wouldn’t have been if I had been forced to stay one minute longer. That woman drives me mad.”

Harrison stared. “But you said your head ached and insisted we leave at once.”

“Goodness, brother dear, you know nothing about women.” She snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I couldn’t say I was bored beyond tears and I ’d had quite enough of Lady Tennwright and more than enough of a presumptuous poet who was fairly falling all over me.”

Indeed, the moment the reading had ended, Veronica had claimed a headache and demanded they depart. Which left him no time to seek out Julia and apologize. Not that he knew exactly what he would say although he had been going through various options in his head.

My dear Julia, I don’t know what came over me
sounded too lighthearted, like a line from a frivolous drawing room comedy.

Forgive me, Julia, I had no right to impose myself upon you
was entirely too stuffy, and while he might well be stuffy, he did not wish to sound like it.

I am sorry, Julia, for taking liberties but I could not seem to stop myself and you were quite irresistible in the moonlight
had potential although he had no idea if there had been moonlight or not.

It might be best simply to pen a note of apology to accompany the roses. He should send flowers to Miss Wa-verly as well and perhaps request to accompany her on a walk in the park. Odd, the idea of an outing with the woman he intended to marry held no particular appeal.

“Then there was no need for us to take our leave so precipitously?”

He couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness of the carriage and yet he knew she was staring at him.

“To my knowledge, you’ve never liked these kinds of evenings. I assumed you’d be delighted to escape as soon as possible.” Speculation sounded in her voice. “Why did you want to linger? It can’t be because of your love of Mr. Ellsworth’s work.”

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“I see.” She paused for a long moment. It did not bode well and he braced himself. “What happened on the terrace, brother dear?”

“On the terrace?”

“With Julia.”

“With Julia?”

“Would you stop repeating everything I say. It will not buy you more time to devise an answer. Now …” She leaned forward and emphasized each word. “What-happened-on-the-terrace-with Julia?”

He shrugged. “Nothing of significance.”

“Given the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off her during the readings, I don’t believe that for a moment. What happened?”

“I might have kissed her,” he said under his breath.

“You
might
have kissed her?”

“Well, yes.”

“Either you did or you didn’t.” She huffed. “Did you kiss her on the hand or on the cheek?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then exactly what did you do?”

“I pulled her into my arms and I kissed her quite thoroughly for what seemed an endless moment,” he snapped.

She gasped. “You kissed your
friend
?”

“Apparently.”

“Worse, you kissed my friend. My dearest friend!” A threat sounded in her voice. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Harrison, but I will not have you toying with her affections.”

“I am not toying with her affections!” Indignation rang in his voice.

“‘I kissed her quite thoroughly for an endless moment,’” she mimicked. “That sounds like toying to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t. At least I didn’t intend it to be.” He blew a long breath. “One minute I was warning her about Ellsworth—”

“Warning her about Ellsworth?” Her voice rose. “What kind of warning?”

“He is not to be trusted, Veronica. His reputation with women is appalling. He would take advantage of her without hesitation.”

“So to prove your point you took advantage of her?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he muttered.

Now that he thought about it, he realized Julia hadn’t pulled away from him. Indeed, she had slipped her arms around his neck and greeted his unexpected moment of desire with passion of her own. But obviously, as she refused to meet his gaze afterward, she regretted their brief lapse in judgment as much as he. And he did regret it, even if he couldn’t get the memory of how her lips had felt beneath his and how her supple body had felt against him out of his mind.

“Dare I ask what it
was
like?”

“No,” he said sharply.

“I see.”

“What do you see?”

“Far more than you want me to, brother dear.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snapped. “And I would prefer that you refrain from calling me
brother dear
. I find it most annoying.”

“Precisely why I shall continue to call you
brother dear
. It describes our relationship perfectly. Besides, I like it and the fact that you do not only makes me like it more.” She fell silent and he readied himself for her next attack. Instead, Veronica drew a deep breath. “She is an intelligent woman and more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, I would appreciate it if you did not break her heart.”

“Breaking her heart is the farthest thing from my mind.”
What about my heart?
He brushed the absurd notion from his head. “It was a momentary aberration, nothing more than that, and I daresay Julia sees it the same way. It was an embarrassment to us both. I assure you it will not happen again.”

“Really?”

“You have my word.”

“Tell me, do you think Julia would agree that it was a momentary aberration and an embarrassment? That she would prefer it not happen again?”

“Yes, of course. Absolutely. No doubt she …” Without warning, the depth of passion he had felt and the certainty that she had shared it, if only for an instant, rushed through him. “Probably.”

“Then I would say the pertinent issue to ponder here, brother dear, is not that you kissed her,” Veronica said in a deceptively casual manner, “but whether she kissed you back.”

His florist must be chortling at the Earl of Mountdale’s newfound need to dispense roses across the city and the subsequent increase in his bills. Not that it wasn’t worth it.

Harrison sat at his desk trying to concentrate on the varied and sundry items that needed the attention of the Earl of Mountdale or the Marquess of Kingsbury as he had done all morning and well into the afternoon with little to show for his efforts. His thoughts kept returning to last night. And the more he considered what had happened on the terrace, the more confused he became. It did no good to dwell on it so he tried to force it from his mind. With little success.

He had had flowers sent first thing this morning to Julia and had dispatched a footman with a brief note of apology as well. It wasn’t at all adequate and he fully intended to provide a more appropriate apology in person as soon as he determined exactly what he would say. Why was this so blasted difficult? He was never at a loss for words. Perhaps it was attributable to his lack of sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, and when he had slept he had dreamed of Julia. Not merely of their searing kiss but of Julia and he in all manner of carnal activities. Obviously, his dreams were influenced by the erotic writings of her ancestor.

Or perhaps it was because, while he did feel he should apologize for his actions, he could not bring himself to regret the kiss itself. Most confusing indeed.

He had had flowers delivered as well to Miss Waverly along with a request to accompany her in the park this afternoon. He had already received a reply, no doubt thanks to her eager mother, regretfully declining his invitation for today but agreeing to accompany him tomorrow. He wasn’t at all pleased by the delay. He would much prefer to get this courtship over and done with. Now that he had chosen an appropriate wife he would just as soon get on with it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his brother’s laughter. He ignored it. Bad enough he had his dead brother’s wife to contend with. He knew full well if Charles was here he would say getting on with it was not at all what one should be thinking about in regards to marriage. Charles would have grinned and added unless, of course, one was being forced to wed.

A small stack of papers fell on the desk in front of him and he jerked his head up. “Father, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“So I noticed.” His father sat heavily in the chair in front of the desk. “I don’t know where you were but you certainly weren’t here. Wool-gathering, Harrison?”

“I do not wool-gather,” he said, and adopted a stern expression. “I have a great deal of work to do.”

His father considered him for a long moment then nodded at the papers he had tossed on the desk. “I read it.”

Harrison glanced at the top page. It was the portion of the memoirs Veronica had given him. “And?”

“The writing was quite lively I thought.”

Harrison scoffed. “And?”

“And it’s not entirely accurate.”

“Yet another reason why it should not be published.”

“Nonsense.” His father leaned forward and met his gaze, a definite twinkle in his eyes. “It’s so much better than I remember.” He chuckled and settled back in the chair. “Deny it all you want, but I look bloody good in Hermione’s version of our affair.”

Harrison stared. “You most certainly do not!”

“Come now, Harrison. Your perception is colored by the fact that I am your father. Be honest with me, boy. If you were reading this adventure about another man, wouldn’t you find the portrayal of him …” He flashed his son a wicked grin. “Splendid?”

“I most certainly would not.” Indignation rang in his voice.

“Daring?”

“Not at all.”

“Dashing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“At the very least, extremely well-en—”

“Father!” Harrison snapped.

His father laughed. “I had no objection to its publication before reading it and I endorse it wholeheartedly now. I should rather like to be remembered for my adventures as a youthful scoundrel rather than as a doddering old man who continues to cast his eye on beautiful young women who, if they had any interest at all, would only want him for his title and wealth.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I quite envy those who have died young.”

“Yes, well, I would have missed you,” Harrison said in a gruff manner. If truth were told, he had not only always loved his father but had secretly admired the devil-may-care way he had lived. In spite of his mother’s disapproval. Odd that he had never told him.

His father’s gaze met his and the old man smiled. “Thank you, my boy.” He paused. “Dare I ask how goes your campaign?”

“In truth, I don’t know.” Harrison blew a long breath. “Somewhere along the way I seem to have lost sight of the goal.”

His father’s brow rose. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It’s not me.” He shook his head. “I thought I would become her friend and she might be more inclined to sell me the memoirs then but, in truth, I like her.”

“Lady Winterset?” Mild surprise sounded in his father’s voice.

“She’s very clever, which is not something I look for in a woman. Indeed I find intelligent women annoying. Veronica being an excellent example.”

“And Lady Winterset is not annoying?”

“Oh, she’s most annoying and stubborn and has no idea of a woman’s place in the world. She thinks she can take care of herself. Can you believe such a thing?”

“It’s all hard to believe,” his father said wryly.

“In spite of that, I find her company most enjoyable. She doesn’t simper, she doesn’t act like she’s less intelligent than she is. She doesn’t directly challenge every opinion I have but she makes it very clear that she does not agree.”

“And she’s quite lovely as well.”

“Isn’t she?” He absently tapped his pen on the desk. “Yet she doesn’t behave like most beautiful women of my acquaintance. I’m certain she’s cognizant of her appearance but it doesn’t seem especially important to her. And well, last night …”

“Last night?”

“Last night she wore a dress …” He glanced at his father. “Green and it precisely matched her eyes. She was …” He shook his head.

“Breathtaking?”

Harrison nodded.

“Ah well, that explains it.” His father chuckled. “I have always had a fondness for green-eyed women myself. Must run in the blood.”

“That’s not all that runs in the blood,” Harrison said under his breath.

His father eyed him curiously. “Don’t stop now. It’s not often that you confide in me, and I must say I am enjoying this. Go on.”

He drew a deep breath. “I kissed her.”